Facets
by Foxfire1
Summary: Fifty onesentence fics, featuring different characters from the Black Jewels books. Written for the 1Fandom Livejournal community.


**Step**: Draca walked slowly down the staircase that led to the depths of the Hall, and far below her, Lorn drew himself to his full height; after all the long millenia and all the changes, his heart still raced at the sound of her step.

**Squeeze**: The little Eyrien Queen squeaked and squeezed both his ears in his hands; Smoke wrinkled his muzzle and wished with all his heart that Orian could distinguish between the pack and her collection of stuffed animals.

**Dirt**: His witch was sad because her mate didn't want to be a mate any more; examining the pile of gloriously ripe carrion he'd found, Graysfang rolled thoroughly in hopes that a sniff or two might cheer Surreal up.

**Late**: "You're late," Daemon hissed as Surreal stepped through a wall and into the alley where he waited; with a wicked smile, she held up a severed hand that still bore shattered Jewels and said "So's he."

**Money**: "You may need bribes, you may need lodging or hired guards, and it's all I can do to make up for - just _take_ it," Philip said, pressing a stack of marks into Wilhelmina's hand and turning on his heel before she could decide whether or not to accept it.

**Aid**: _We will help hunt_, Smoke said when Kaelas told them of the intruder-scent within the hall, and the wolves began to spiral out in a search without further discussion; the pack was _one_ in a way that cats could never comprehend, and what was known to one would soon be known to all.

**Myth**: _I lost nothing I regret losing_...for too long, Witch had been the living myth; now Jaenelle could create her own story.

**Piece**: Witch glided through the Abyss, in search of the pieces of her shattered chalice - an image here, a memory there - and wondering if she wished to find it at all.

**Child**: Studying Kartane, Dorothea wonders if he could ever have been more than a tool for her, then shakes her head; that kind of sentiment is foolishness, fit only for beasts and landen.

**Confess**: Daemonar took one look at Mrs. Beale's face and shot straight upward, wings beating frantically; Lucivar reminded himself that Eyrien warriors did not flee the battlefield, held out the empty tray - the two of them hadn't _quite_ gone so far as to lick it clean of nutcake crumbs - and said "I took them."

**Trick**: Aaron eyed the pile of unpeeled potatoes ruefully, and Mrs. Beale apprehensively, and resolved never, ever to let Khary talk him into playing tricks again.

**Out**: "Get them OUT of my kitchen," Mrs. Beale said, waving a floury hand at the wolf pups under the table, who all stared worshipfully back at her.

**Best**: Stalking Kartane SaDiablo, Titian glanced at her daughter and smiled ferally; the bastard might have broken her, but he hadn't stolen what she loved best.

**Mother**: In a sense she was the mother of them all, but as Draca sensed the first stirrings of magic in those who would become Blood, all she could feel was heartache for the daughters who would never be.

**Book**: "Lia's daughter will hold, and maybe her granddaughter as well," Jared said, "but one day Dena Nehele _will_ fall - so take the damn book, Daemon."

**Victim**: Rose struggled against her death, and when she lost the struggle, fought even harder to remain as demon-dead; she had little enough power, but with Jaenelle's aid it could still turn her from victim to avenger.

**Power**: "You _will_ kneel to me," Dorothea purred; maybe to the son who scurried out of her chambers or maybe to the Territory that spread beneath her balcony.

**Redeem**: Zuulaman was gone - Zuulaman had never _been_ - but even deep in the Twisted Kingdom, Saetan knew nothing would redeem his failure to protect the child.

**Bleak**: Char walked across the bleak shore to greet the dead girl in her bloodied dress, and said "Welcome, Rose - Jaenelle asked me to wait for you."

**Shrapnel**: For a moment Tersa stood at the edge of choice - sanity, or the last freedom left to her - then she chose, and felt the crystal chalice shatter around her as she stepped into madness, into the Twisted Kingdom.

**Humane**: "How...humane of you," Surreal choked, eyeing the orphaned rabbit Graysfang was carefully holding by the scruff, "but what am I supposed to _do_ with it?"

**Ange**r: While Jaenelle slept away the last effects of _safframate_ and battle, Lucivar burned off his own rage in the taverns of Little Terreille, holding on to just enough self-control to restrict his weapons to fists and not Jewels.

**Team**: A part of Lucivar welcomed the hints of war to come, welcomed the thought of his strength and his brother's unleashed for once on a common foe.

**Terror**: Witch studied Briarwood's tangled web with satisfaction; it would wake only when her blood was spilled, but _then_...A Black Widow knew every aspect of terror, and she'd woven them all into this web.

**Natural**: "It's not _natural_," Lucivar said plaintively when he found Marian attempting to put a shine on the rough-cut walls of their aerie; she just wrinkled her nose at him and went to talk to Jaenelle about ingredients for a stronger polish.

**Never**: If Alexandra had regrets, she would never express them; it wasn't the place of a Queen to regret.

**Fidelity**: He didn't know her name, her scent, or the sound of her voice - didn't even know if she existed yet - but it didn't matter; Daemon would wait for his Lady for as long as it took to find her.

**Neglect**: The Strange One neglected her fur, and her words were thorny and tangled, but the kindred knew her power, basked in it, and didn't trouble themselves about fur and speech.

**Face**: _Do you have to?_ KaeAskavi asked Della, as they neared the outskirts of her old home; when she just set her jaw and nodded, he rumbled in resignation and followed, hoping to help his Lady face old losses.

**Lurk**: In an alcove safely removed from the hum of gossip at an aristo party, Surreal raised an unimpressed eyebrow at Daemon and said "No, sugar, _I'm_ observing; _you're_ lurking."

**Grow**: In a hidden corner of the garden, witchblood grew tall, lush and deadly; Jaenelle crooned to it as she dug, but she didn't need the song to remember the ones who had died.

**Skin**: "Look beneath the skin," Witch said, but only humans needed to be told something that simple; if Kaelas worried about skin, he wouldn't have a furry, yapping mouthful of a _canine_ for a Brother.

**Sick**: "Sick-mind, sick-mind," Jaenelle muttered, arms wrapped around her knees; they used longer and gentler words to Alexandra, but they all meant the same thing, and she was starting to believe them.

**Dare**: Standing at the top of a hill that wasn't _quite_ a precipice, Karla hefted the oversized tray they'd taken from Cook's cabinets and glanced over at Jaenelle; neither of them needed to say "I dare you".

**Worth**: The sacrifice was worth it, but Mephis would miss even the half-life of the demon-dead..._Father, goodbye_.

**Last**: It was the last day of Winsol, there was a formal dinner planned for the evening, and Khary was grinning _entirely_ too much for anyone's comfort.

**Year**: It was Winsol night, the hub around which the year turned, the time to celebrate all that made them Blood - and all Daemon could think of, gliding through the crowds at another bitch-Queen's pretty little party, was snapping all those fragile, pure-Blooded necks.

**Prime**: He might _look_ like a man in his prime, but after a summer with the coven, Saetan could feel each day of his fifty millennia, as well as a few more that had apparently settled on him just for spite.

**Taste**: Char knew - none better - about hiding until the pain went away; the High Lord said Witch was gone, but while he could still taste her power on the air, he would not stop calling her.

**Final**: Andulvar made a casual farewell to Saetan, wishing he dared tell him what Witch had asked of the dead, so he could say goodbye to his oldest friend in truth.

**Event**: They were calling it the Witchstorm, or the Purge, or the Reckoning; seeing the devastation that had crossed all the Realms, Saetan wondered if Jaenelle had truly known what she'd unleash.

**Secure**: Her name wasn't truly Thera, or Ana or Jessin or Mailie or Sereen - and she never even _thought_ the name of the girl she'd been; there was no other chance for safety.

**Ring**: When Karla asked for rings for all the First Circle females, the mares - herd animals even if they _were_ kindred - had accepted it, and the wolf bitches were happy to follow their packleader's orders, but Ladvarian had no idea how he was going to explain it to the she-cats.

**Settle**: Draca fell, spent, as the last of her scales settled like slow rain onto those who could receive them; the change swept over her, and she reached toward the spirit of her Dreamer daughter in a moment's doubt..._How I wish you could tell me if we chose the right path._

**Energy**: With the coven and their boyos in residence, the Hall shook - sometimes literally; Saetan believed he could contain any trouble caused by Craft alone, but the sheer energy of that many healthy, happy adolescents might destroy him yet.

**Center**: He'd survived the dissolution of courts before - the Queen was the center of a Blood triangle, but that didn't mean the males would be lost if the relationship was - but watching Daemon slowly crumble like shattered ice, while Lucivar grew sharper and more savage by the day, Saetan wondered what would happen to them all if Jaenelle did not recover.

**Ordinary**: "Is this the ordinary part or the extraordinary one?" Jaenelle asked Daemon worriedly, eyeing the havoc their youngest daughter had wreaked with her new-won Birthright Jewels.

**Voice**: Lucivar didn't _quite_ flinch when Marian stormed in with a squalling, indignant Daemonar under one arm, plopped the toddler down on his lap, and said "_Your_ son!" in a voice that could have cut diamond - but it was a near thing.

**Hang**: The golden spider hung from her web, watching this most unusual of students with interest; of all the races of the Blood, only the Arachnans were neither surprised nor deceived by the arrival of Witch within the shell of a small human girl.


End file.
